Movie Nights
by Knickknack's Attack
Summary: Maka never liked scary movies. Still doesn't. Soul always loved horror flicks. Maka only makes them better.


This is my escape from homework. A small treat to me and you before I am forced to go back to the wretched world of essays and outlines.

Note that this is a completely pointless and plot-less story meant only to amuse and distract.

Disclaimer: Do you ever feel monotonous, saying this over and over? We don't need the fact we don't own it constantly shoved in our faces. Jeez.

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><p>It had been a long day.<p>

Piles upon piles of schoolwork had threatened to consume them. Writing sores promised blisters soon to follow. Eyes blurred and shifted frantically, trying to focus on the smudged words sprawled across the paper. Soul had no idea one's ass could go so positively numb.

Even Maka looked exhausted.

And that was saying something.

As soon as Soul scribbled the last line down, he threw his homework aside, ignored Blair's squeal as he nearly mowed her over on the way to the kitchen, ripped open the fridge and grabbed the closest consumable in sight. Soda.

Ahhhh…

Soul crushed the can in his hand and proceeded to snatch another before he shuffled over to the couch and threw himself backward onto the awaiting cushions. He sat for a few moments, pulled his headband low on his forehead and let his tense muscles slowly ease and relax. He rested his head against the top of the blanket that lay across the back of the couch.

He heard Blair yell and kiss a goodbye to them as she hurried out the door and he waved a vague hand in return, spilling fizzling liquid drops atop his knuckles. He licked them off and searched for the remote.

There was nothing good on. The Death Scythe flipped through channels aimlessly and punched the button with more aggression than what was probably warranted. Maka dragged herself through the hallway and out to the living room, where Soul was beat relentlessly on the remote.

She rolled her eyes and plopped down next to him, letting her body sink into the thick cushions.

"Anything good?"

"Nuh uh."

"Hmmm. What about that one?"

"Too girly."

"That one?"

"Too boring."

"_That_ one?"

"Too long."

"Ugh, Soul. What about – "

"Too old."

"This one – "

"Too educational."

"SOUL! _Just pick a channel already!_"

"Too loud."

Maka blinked. "What? I don't – Hey! Take that back!"

"Too high pitched."

They became a squirming mass on the couch, as Soul blocked and Maka smacked. Legs kicked and thrashed and a crushed soda can bounced off a cursing white head. A remote scrolled through the channels rapidly, slowly being flattened beneath a sideways hip. Ponytails were pulled out, a headband was snapped off. A vest was wrestled over a head and his buttons gradually opened lower and lower. Strikes meant to hurt somehow turned into caresses meant to melt. Their bodies molded together instead of pushing apart. Soul was just starting to enjoy himself when a scream shattered their concentration.

She jumped at the same time his head snapped up.

"The hell…?"

He perked up suddenly, digging a hand under her hip for the remote. She lay still and squinted at the screen.

"What is that?"

"Zombie Apocalypse VII: Return of the Axe Hand."

"They made seven of those shitty movies?"

"Hey," he said, finally detangling them, "Don't knock on the zombies. They never did nothing to you."

"Except rot my brain cells and continually lower my standards on action movies."

Soul rolled his eyes and sat back again. "You never even watched the first six."

"I didn't need to," she huffed, straightening out next to him. "Your enthusiastic reaction was all the confirmation I needed."

He pushed her once more before becoming engrossed in the movie. Maka couldn't help but be drawn in as well.

Now, there was not a lot that Maka was scared of. She faced kishin souls unflinchingly, sliced through murderous beasts without a second thought. She could calmly wait out Black Star's "godly" fits and Maka-Chop her wailing father to oblivion and back again. She defeated Asura, and suppressed black blood on a daily basis.

What she could not handle were zombies.

Sid wasn't so bad, maybe because she knew him before and he didn't actually act like a brain eating monster, but there was just something about these ones. They crept and crawled and oozed and howled. Slicing them open seemed to only make them multiply and shooting did no good either.

Maka hated zombies.

She took pride in the fact she made it thirty minutes in before finally breaking down.

"Eek!" It was the clawed zombie crow that did it.

Maka also hated birds now.

Soul was surprised when his meister let out a girly screech and snatched his arm to her chest. Maka? Afraid of feathers and flying avian brains?

He was never going to let this go.

But he did.

Mostly because her chest felt much nicer against his bicep that one would originally guess.

Soul loved zombies. And birds.

He met her eyes and she looked apologetic and a little embarrassed for a moment. But then another half dead bird appeared (a hawk this time) and she scrambled into his lap.

He could handle that.

He smothered a laugh and drew lazy arms around her wide eyed form. She squeezed the breath of out his lungs as another wave of zombies flew across the screen. He leaned forward and bit her neck in order to distract her and loosen her boa constrictor arms. She relented, but only for a moment because, oh dear Death, was that a two-headed fire-breathing abnormally-large zombie-lord owl?

Soul resigned himself to his fate. This was going to take a while.

He was surprised at how squeamish she was. Maka never liked to show weakness around anyone or anything. It seemed he found her kryptonite.

In the moments she was not compressing his air cavities, Soul found he was enjoying himself. Immensely.

Every time she grabbed at him, her adequately sized breasts rubbed against his chest. _Nice_.

Whenever she couldn't handle a particularly gory scene she buried her face in his neck, washing hot breath over his neck. _Sweet_.

While she squirmed and quivered in his lap, her skirt would hitch up and her thighs would run along his suggestively. _Freaking awesome_.

Soul decided to make movie night a new Friday tradition. It was officially a short skirted, scary movie, shirts unbuttoned, zombie-based zone. Feathered monsters allowed. All other trespassers beware.

Maka was not able to pull her eyes from the screen. She just couldn't do it.

The movie was terrible. Utterly and spectacularly horrific. But it was like watching a train wreck. You just could not pull your gaze away. Sometimes it became too much and she would shrink back into Soul. She was grateful that he didn't mock her, although sometimes when her shrieks were especially squeaky, she could feel the rumbling of a suppressed chuckle in his chest. She was too terrified to let go of him; otherwise he would have been Maka-Chopped many laughing moons ago.

As the credits finally rolled across the television (What had been the point of that? Everyone just died! What the _hell_?) Maka collapsed back into Soul's arms. She sighed and he looked down at the worn down meister in his lap.

He started to speak, but without even opening her eyes, she cut him off.

"Don't."

"But I didn't – "

"Nope."

"How could you possibly – "

"Nuh uh."

"I just – "

"Not. A. Word."

"Come _on_ – "

This time she shut him up permanently. Soul tasted like sugar, and maybe just a hint of something deeper. She got a little carried away, but he didn't mind.

He never did.

When he scooped his arms under her, she tried to give a least a halfhearted protest but even that came out as a moan. The skin under her back and knees where his arm held her felt so warm and alive. So unzombie-like.

When they merged together in his bed that night, she made sure to keep a hand, ear or chest pressed against his heart at all times. Maka tried to use the pretence of tracing his scar to justify her odd fixation to his upper body but he knew better. She savored in the beat and pound of her weapon's racing heart, soaked in the warmth and feel of his skin. She felt the rumbling laugh once again echoing back in her own chest and that time she welcomed it.

The next morning when the sound of the cooing pigeons fluttered in through the open window, she cringed and burrowed herself back under Soul. She nearly gagged when Blair offered to make them eggs. She finally did make a run for the bathroom when Tsubaki came over with chicken and turkey sandwiches. At that point even Soul started to eye the dead bird meat wearily.

When Patti and Kid stopped by, Maka was fine until Liz strutted in with a feather assorted jacket.

Soul tried his hardest to hold in that deep laugh three months later when the next to the movie came out.

Zombie Apocalypse VIII: Reign of the Avian War Lord.

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><p>Sorry if I ruined your dinner. If it makes you feel any better my Costco chicken looks pretty unappetizing right now.<p>

For all of you who looked at the movie titles and said, "Man, can't this loser come up with anything better? It's like she's never seen a horror movie before," then you'd be right. On both accounts. The _**commercial**_ to Grudge gave me nightmares.

For a week.


End file.
